The Turkish Baths (When Straight Guys Go Gay) by E.M. Bridger Page B

in retrospect, would redefine the course of both Steve’s holiday and his entire future outlook on life. “Have you been to Hamam?”
     
    “Erm, no,” Steve replied, “I haven’t exactly travelled far this holiday. Whereabouts is it?”
     
    “No, no, it not a place,” Mehmet replied, once again laughing, “It Turkish baths.”
     
    “Oh right,” Steve also laughed, “No, I haven’t. I’ve seen a brochure in the hotel room, but I’m not sure it’s my sort of thing.”
     
    “You should try, very relaxing,” Mehmet said, with a twinkle in his eye. “My uncle, he own private Turkish Bath here in town. Very exclusive.”
     
    “Hmmm,” said Steve, not entirely convinced.
     
    “I go tomorrow afternoon,” Mehmet persisted, “Please, be my guest.”
     
    “I’ll think about it,” Steve replied non-committedly.
     
    “I go two o’clock tomorrow, so…” Mehmet said, shrugging his broad shoulders.
     
    “OK, I’ll bear that in mind,” Steve countered politely.
     
    He finished his drink and paid his bill, along with a generous tip for the friendly barman, before walking out into the still blazing sunshine. The bus ride back to the hotel seemed speedy, his thoughts occupied, as they were, by Mehmet’s unexpected invitation. He vowed to take an extra careful look at the brochures before making his final decision as his mind ethereally drifted off into mundane thoughts of what to choose for dinner that evening.
     
    **********
     
    The eleventh day of the holiday began in much the same way as the tenth, with Barbara expressing a still insatiable desire to visit every stall and every bazaar the bustling resort had to offer. Thankfully for Steve, her previous insistence that he joined her had been tempered by the newfound freedom that she too had experienced the previous day. Each more than satisfied with their respective solo plans, Steve casually perused the Turkish bath pamphlet, the words ‘invigorating’, ‘deep cleansing’, ‘relaxing’ and ‘rejuvenating’ echoing around his mind. Hurriedly, he tucked the leaflet to the bottom of the pile of brochures just as Barbara emerged from the bathroom. “OK honey, I’m off,” she announced, “You have a nice afternoon looking around your old buildings,” she added teasingly as she blew him a kiss goodbye.
     
    ‘What have I got to lose?’ Steve thought to himself as headed down the hotel stairs towards the lobby. ‘It’s an old local tradition, and, well, when in Rome etc.’ he rationalised as he stood waiting for the bus, the warm afternoon sun once again relentlessly beating down. Throughout the short journey, Steve constantly reassured himself that it was a perfectly natural thing to do when on holiday in Turkey, thousands of people do it every year and it was an age old custom that it would be unwise to miss out on. Nevertheless, he felt sure he had made the right decision in not being totally honest with Barbara about his real intentions that afternoon.
     
    When he eventually strolled in to the, once again, deserted bar he was immediately greeted with a cheery wave by the seemingly ever present Mehmet. “Hello, my friend, good to see you again,” he loudly enthused from behind the bar.
     
    “Merhaba, Mehmet,” Steve replied, equally as cheerily, before settling on the same bar-stool he had occupied the previous day.
     
    “Beer?” Mehmet asked, gesticulating towards the generously stacked fridge behind the bar.
     
    “Oh, yes please,” Steve answered, “It’s a bit quiet in here again today.”
     
    “Is always quiet, my friend, not many people visit old town these days,” the barman replied solemnly as he poured Steve’s ice cold drink. “One time, my bar very busy, but now…” Mehmet allowed the sentence to drift off wistfully as he placed the full glass down on the surface of the bar.
     
    Steve downed almost half of his drink in total silence as Mehmet busied himself behind the bar. Would he even remember his